


Italian Vice

by whiskeyandspite



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Establishing Relationship, First Time, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: Without a word, but with a deliberate and deep sigh, Philippe raised his free hand and gestured vaguely his permission for the other to continue, should he wish.

  The Chevalier certainly did.

  Though Philippe practiced the Italian Vice without shame or silence, his lover was a hedonist of an order the prince had yet to encounter. 
An imagining of the first time of many to come.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am very new to the #VersaillesFamily, as in, I only discovered and completed the series this past Monday, but the pairing caught me entirely unprepared and so here we are.
> 
> This fic, I hope, is the first of many to come as well.
> 
> All typos are my own, I have no beta and a terrible sense of grammar.

The first kiss was a battle neither won really. It had been awkward, and sloppy, and rather nice despite that, but it wasn't particularly successful. At least no hair had been pulled and no skin smarted under a sharp slap, which Chevalier counted as a note in his favor.

"Are you going to do this properly, or are you just going to stop?"

Stroppy, lovely little thing. 

Monsieur's cheeks were ripe with the warmth of the wine under the mask he wore, and his eyes bright beneath hooded lids. If he bit his lip again Chevalier wasn't sure he could do anything but pull it free to bite it himself.

But that would be rude, perhaps.

"Are you going to invite me to your bed, or are we to draw our swords in the hallway?" he countered.

Philippe snorted, for a moment the serious facade he wore in public cracking to reveal the softness beneath. He so was absolutely, utterly lovely, that Chevalier kissed him again.

This kiss proved far more successful. Easy and soft, lips pressing out of shape before parting against each other and allowing tongues to mark new territory. An absolutely delightful way to finish another evening of wooing, chasing, and hoping for even a glimpse into Monsieur’s secret little life. In any possible way.

Even this would enough, Chevalier could admit, if it was all he got this evening. Even this was enough to rut against each other like teenagers by the door of the prince’s chamber. Especially if he managed to get Philippe to make that sound again. Soft, sweet, breathy little thing he’d made just then - it was positively sinful. Chevalier wound his fingers further in Philippe’s hair and tugged.

“No,” came the immediate reply, the tone entirely in juxtaposition with the word itself. “Not out here.” Light eyes narrowed, pupils blown in clear pleasure, and Philippe twisted just enough away to reach for the door handle, shoving it open and grasping the froth at Chevalier’s collar to drag him inside.

“My, my,” Chevalier laughed, allowing his shoulders to press to the door as Philippe removed his mask to toss away and unbuttoned his jacket next. “You make quite the argument, Monsieur.”

“And you,” the other sighed, “never, ever shut up.”

All inhibition was gone, once the door closed to protect them from prying eyes. Hands tore at clothes, lips smeared hot kisses over flushed skin and words slithered past gritted teeth that shouldn’t be heard in polite company. Good thing they had no other company but the other’s. Any and all words would be welcome here.

“Thought I would never get you into bed,” Chevalier murmured, teeth deliberately catching on a peaked nipple just to feel the other shudder, just to feel those elegant fingers, perfectly buffed nails, dig into his scalp in encouragement as he moved to kneel. “Thought I would never have the honor.”

“Shut up.”

“No, truly,” the blonde looked up, grinning. “My dear, I would have gone on wooing you had you rebuffed me at every attempt.”

Philippe gently drew his hand over his face to try and hide the smile that appeared there at the words. He could preen at them, always. He would think of them often. But now was hardly the moment, when the man he had been forcing himself to ignore, forcing himself to not let in all these weeks was on his knees before him.

“I may still do so, if you don’t put your mouth to better use soon,” he muttered, catching a lock of hair between his fingers and pressing it past his lips. He watched as his belt was undone, his trousers unlaced, the breeches beneath slid down his thighs by a man who held no shame in the act. That was quite the welcome sight. The prince’s preferences were far from hidden from the court, but most that made it into his bed did so at the whim of the prince’s boredom or the urging of nervous parents.

This man had clawed his way past the door with blind determination and far too much charm. He was more than welcome.

Philippe did not hide the sound of pleasure that immediately poured from his lips at the first touch of skin to skin. He dropped his head back with a sigh and kept one hand down curled in the golden strands of Chevalier’s hair as his other slid back up his own chest again, fingers spread and stroking.

The man’s mouth was practiced and exquisite, the sounds filthy and perfect as his lips worked and his tongue spread around the cock that swelled against it. And his hands… not just hanging limp at his sides or fumbling awkwardly against Philippe’s thighs; but stroking, warming, massaging against trembling muscles and tickling behind weak knees. Philippe caught his breath and held it as the man before him took him deeper still between his lips, down to the very back of his throat, before pulling off and sitting back to regard him.

“Magnificent,” Chevalier said, breathless and flushed, lips a scandalous shade of red and slicked bright. “Absolutely magnificent.”

What could the prince say to that without repeating his words?

So he dragged the blonde up his body instead, he tugged him near and caught his mouth again and kissed him breathless, tasting himself against Chevalier’s tongue. They didn’t need to say much more after that, hands busy untangling the last of their clothes from skin sticky with sweat, feet busy finding a clear path towards the canopied bed before allowing themselves to collapse on it. Here the flame barely stifled itself, but they permitted themselves to take their time with each other; Philippe stretching on the bed under worshipful attention, finding his smile unable to be wiped away as inch by inch his skin was explored and adored, Chevalier with eyes closed, beginning to learn his prince by heart.

Sighs became whimpers, whimpers became moans. With a laugh, Philippe pushed his lover away from taking him into his mouth again and instead turned himself over to press his belly to the bed. He shivered as he felt the tickle of hair up his spine, Chevalier’s breath warming his shoulder immediately after, before a hot kiss followed.

Philippe slipped a hand beneath himself to stroke, his cock caught against the thick silk and velvet of the bedcovers, as his back was worshiped just as thoroughly as his front had been.

“You tease me,” he managed after a moment, pressing his cheek to the pillow as he turned his eyes back to seek for Chevalier’s. He couldn’t resist another snort upon seeing the man’s cocked brow.

“Should I not be?” He responded. “I’m sorry, Monsieur, should I merely spread your legs and plunge my cock between like a savage?”

Another snort from the prince, and Philippe had to turn his face to the sheets again to avoid outright laughing. It had been so long since he had properly been teased, so long since had allowed himself to be properly had, that he was entirely giddy from it now. As though he were a decade younger once more, arching his back for his first ever male lover.

“I suppose I could work to royal demands,” Chevalier continued, sitting back and catching his hands against Philippe’s thighs to pull him up to his knees, spreading him around his own legs. “Though I had had a plan for the evening, one must learn to work with what they have.”

“Would you truly be such a monster in my bed?”

“I suppose I could bring myself to, if I had to,” Chevalier shrugged, drawing his hands up and down over pale thighs, smile burning bright as the prince’s grew as well. “Though I would much prefer to have you trembling in absolute need for me before that.”

“Could you?”

“Darling, you could not scare away my attentions with your entirely false lack of interest in me in court, you can be absolutely certain that I will put every effort into having you sobbing in pleasure for me before I fuck you.”

That word, that damn word alone was enough to have the prince tremble from head to toe, arching his back at the promise of it. Chevalier’s breath warm against his tailbone hardly helped matters. Without a word, but with a deliberate and deep sigh, Philippe raised his free hand and gestured vaguely his permission for the other to continue, should he wish.

The Chevalier certainly did.

Though Philippe practiced the Italian Vice without shame or silence, his lover was a hedonist of an order the prince had yet to encounter. True to his word, with his tongue alone, the man had Philippe trembling within moments, with but a hum he had him stretching forward, arching back, panting his desire into the sheets beneath him. Held so vulnerable and open the prince could do little more than moan encouragement and squeeze his own hand around his cock to keep his pleasure at bay.

This was desire. This was freedom. This was sin of the finest calibre.

“Chevalier…”

“Monsieur?”

“Stop,” he laughed. “Stop at once and fuck me properly.”

Even the charming blonde could find little to stay to that, his own prick throbbing between his legs for attention. He’d certainly lived up to his word to the prince, every promise and immorality whispered to him during mass or on their walks through the vast gardens of the hunting lodge. And he was sure he had more nights after this one - and some days, perhaps - to prove himself more than capable a lover to the brother of the king.

He didn’t waste time on any more teasing, did little more than spit against his palm and slick himself anew. Beneath him, Philippe spread his knees wider and watched over his shoulder, eyes blown bright.

Their first coupling was as much a battle as their first kiss had been. Neither held back their sounds of pleasure, their hisses at stretched muscles or pulled skin. Neither stopped the other from pushing harder, from squeezing tight, kissing sloppy against any skin they could reach. Their hair tangled. Their knees rubbed rough against the velvet of the bedcover. Their voices rose and fell together, whispers caught between them, words fed to the other and swallowed in return. They fucked, as the Monsieur had demanded, they lost themselves to each other completely, unabashed and loud, sweaty and trembling.

Neither felt surprised when after, their friction turned to gentleness; Chevalier’s fingers easing between Philippe’s own to clasp together as they lay and caught their breath. No excuses were made about how time was getting on and one had to leave the other. No excuses were made in regards to anything at all. The prince bestowed a lingering kiss to the tangled golden curls against his cheek and turned away to allow the other nearer, pressed against the length of his back.

“Do you wish me to leave once you’ve fallen to slumber?” Chevalier managed after a while, words slurred from exhaustion and pleasure. Beneath him, the prince shook his head, drawing his arm back to gather one of Chevalier’s around himself.

“No, I’ve need for you in the morning.”

“Oh?”

“A thorough education in the arts of vice seems to be in order,” the prince continued, smiling as he rubbed his face against the pillow, lashes long against his cheeks. “My knowledge in the matters of pleasure seems to be thoroughly outdated and I refuse to be behind on the times. I’ll have no other tutor.”

Chevalier snorted softly against the dark locks before him, and smiled wider when the prince half turned and opened his eyes to see him.

“Would you refuse me.”

“Never,” he replied, bringing their joined hands to his lips to kiss Philippe’s knuckles. He watched the prince smile, the corners of his eyes drawing up with it, dimples pressing against his cheeks, just a shadow, before disappearing behind a yawn. He was so utterly lovely “Not in anything.”


End file.
